


Maintenance

by axiolotl



Series: Ava Shepard [1]
Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Friendship, Mass Effect 1, POV Garrus Vakarian, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axiolotl/pseuds/axiolotl
Summary: The first of many conversations held in the wee hours of the night in the SSV Normandy's shuttle bay.





	Maintenance

It had been hours since they left Noveria, but even in the empty shuttle bay, tension hung in the air. With two missions under their belts and only a dead matriarch, her daughter, and no rogue Spectre to show for it, the crew was chafing under the pressure. The only people keeping them together were Saren and Shepard — the former a source of frustrated motivation, the latter a force of cooperation and teamwork. Shepard made it clear that any Alliance crew that had problems would be left on the Citadel, but it would take a lot longer for the attitude to go from begrudging tolerance to happy coexistence.

While everyone had gone to their bunks to avoid each other, Garrus busied himself with the Mako. The tank had taken too many hits from geth armatures, and the suspension didn’t benefit from Shepard’s hit-and-runs. Plus, he found a mod on the Citadel that he might be able to integrate into the guns — they could use a little more power, especially considering the Mako’s driver was used to the recoil and damage of a sniper rifle.

Garrus was underneath the tank on his back when he heard the elevator doors open and close. He kept tinkering with some gears, but slower, listening to the footsteps. It was a habit at this point — too many times he’d been in a sting, trying to figure out which species was around the corner so he could know where to shoot. Now on the _Normandy_ , the human crew made it easy to pick out when Tali or Wrex were coming, but everyone else was nigh unidentifiable.

Except for Shepard. She walked with a fierce determination, steps that _snapped_ , feet that had places to be. Whether she did it consciously or not, she never lingered, and had a perfect soldier’s march — even when she was just walking around her own ship.

So it was odd to hear her distinct gait stop after a couple of steps, pause, and then continue softer, quieter towards the armory. Like she had scoped out the area, found no one, and decided to drop her commanding persona.

Garrus hadn’t considered that before — that Shepard could be soft or silent or a person that snuck away to work on guns in the middle of the night. Not that Shepard wasn't afraid to show her emotions — he knew that she thought the best of everyone, had a deep sense of empathy and a sarcastic sense of humor. But combined with her fierce military professionalism and tactical expertise, it all combined into a woman that seemed larger than life — and while she used stealth technology in the battlefield, Commander Shepard seemed too strong to hide.

He needed to get up to check the Mako’s sensors, but he didn’t want to intrude on Shepard’s...alone time. He could have lay down there for hours to avoid the awkward situation, but the discomfort of being on his back made him crawl out from underneath the tank, trying to make enough noise so that he didn’t spook her, but not too much to be rude.

It was only when he stood up that he realized there was soft music coming from her omni-tool, stopped immediately when she saw him. Her face set slightly harder, her posture went straighter when he appeared — minute but noticeable changes. Guilt bubbled in his stomach — he should have endured the discomfort to avoid this feeling of embarrassment, like a kid caught staying up past his bedtime.

“Garrus,” she said, patting down her short red hair, turning completely in her stool but staying seated. “Didn’t know you were here.”

He stayed near the Mako, feeling safer near an object where he could keep busy. “Sorry, Commander. I was just working on the suspension system.”

She gave a short nod, her eyes scanning the Mako. “Is she okay after the beating we gave her on Noveria?” All business. No mention of how she was taken off guard, or how she failed to notice a turian on her inspection of the shuttle bay.

He, apparently, was too tired to give a detailed status report first. “You call it a _she_?” he asked, before he could stop his damn mouth.

Thankfully, she gave a small smile and walked over to the Mako, laying an affectionate hand on it’s hood. “Yeah, she’s a she. Do turians not…”

“Assign genders to different objects?” he provided, and she nodded. “Yes, but only to war ships, like the _Normandy_. But not something like...the Mako.”

“Hey, don’t talk about her like that,” she smirked. “The Mako is every bit as graceful as the _Normandy_. Just in a different way.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

She patted the massive tank, clear affection in her eyes. All he could see was the beast that Alliance engineers had made seemingly only for Shepard’s love for driving off cliffs — of course, always justified as necessary.

“It’s fine,” she said, taking her eyes off of the Mako. “I guess I’m pretty sentimental over the old girl. We’ve been through a lot.”

“Either way, it- she’s doing fine, just had to do some calibrating and replace some belts. I’m ramping up the guns, too.”

“Barrel adjustments?”

He nodded, habit he picked up from his human colleagues at C-sec.

“Good, good,” she said. She was looking at him now, and he felt like he might as well be naked. Or under a C-sec level scanner. She ran her hand through her hair again, this time making it messier instead of trying to tame it, starting to edge towards the elevator. The clip in her step was there, but lighter, softer. “I won't keep you any longer. God knows the Mako needs more attention than I do.”

He could hear the dismissal from a kilometer away, but it didn’t feel right. “I- Commander, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your, ah, gun maintenance,” he said. “I, uh, don't mind sharing the shuttle bay, though.” _Spirits_. It wasn't his shuttle bay to share, but this was her ship and she should be able to go wherever she wanted. Plus, everything in her body language said she didn't really want to leave, and the still-hot soldering iron and her unassembled sniper rifle said that she shouldn't.

She stopped walking, raising an eyebrow. “I play music while I work. Is that okay?”

He let out a short cough of laughter at such a trivial question, relieved she wasn't reprimanding him for insubordination. “Yeah, yeah. That’s fine.” She nodded and walked back to the armory station as he looked down at his omni-tool to start the scans for the Mako.

After a couple of moments, the music began again. It was the same as before, but now that it wasn’t turned off at his presence, he recognized it. “Expel 10?” he said, looking over.

Shepard looked up, a confused expression on her face.

“The band? That’s playing?”

“Oh,” she said, then smiled, and looked...embarrassed? “I guess so, I just pick random playlists I find on the extranet. The ones without words. It helps me focus.”

“Ah,” he said, because he didn’t really know how to continue the conversation from there. He got the feeling he didn’t need to as Shepard went back to work, and soon the two of them fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being different dance beats and the quiet _clanks_ as each of them worked.

After a while, he heard Shepard shift in her chair and ask, "So, couldn't get any sleep?"

"Didn't try to," he answered, inspecting the Mako's gun barrels. "I still felt cold from Noveria, and I figured I'd do better to move around and help instead of lying sleepless in my bunk."

"Sorry," she said, and his brow plates lifted as he looked over at her.

"Why? Not your fault that Saren chose a frozen hellscape to hide a Rachni queen."

She chuckled. "No, it's not, but I did choose you as part of the squad, and that _is_ my fault."

"No harm done, Commander," he said, rolling his shoulders before he dove into some circuitry.

"You did complain about it while we were in station, though," she said, a smile clearly in her voice.

"I was just stating a fact," he tried to say innocently, though he full well knew complaining is exactly what he had done in Port Hanshan, albeit in a sarcastic way. "Turians _don't_ like the cold. But I do a lot of things I don't like."

"Well, I really hope you're enjoying being on the Normandy, otherwise I'd be down a sniper."

He gave a small laugh. "I am. I meant more when I have to file transfer requests, or deal with the Zakera precinct, or go on overnight patrols."

"Ah," she said. "I'm glad you tolerated my choice, then. You seemed the best for it, next to Liara."

"Oh?" He couldn't help but feel flattered, but he was unsure why bringing him onto a frozen planet outside of Council space would be the best choice.

"Yeah, well," he heard her click some pieces of her Volkov into place, as he integrated the mod's electronics into the Mako's system. "Bringing two Alliance soldiers with me would have seemed like I was imposing human interests into corporate business. Tali's suit isn't designed to handle the extreme cold, and a krogan would have been too intimidating."

"So a turian who knows how to follow rules and a mostly innocent asari archaeologist was a perfect choice," he concluded. "Smart."

"I try," she said wryly. "Our combat styles line up well, too. Liara can crowd control while we cover her and pick off major targets from the back."

"Her Singularity did make it easy to pick off the rachni with pistol fire."

"Exactly," she agreed, and he couldn't help but internally praise her for thinking of both the diplomatic and combat repercussions of each of her crew member's presence. They had only been a crew for a week or so, but Shepard had already figured out how each member of her squad worked best for a mission, even if _they_ weren't able to see it.

He shifted his position to better get at a screw, then looked over at Shepard. "So, couldn't sleep either?"

"Didn't try to," she said, mirroring his answer. "I just generally don't get a lot of sleep. Usually I try to assemble model ships until I get too tired to sit up, but I was too distracted and couldn't stay focused on the SSV _Hyderabad_. Playing around with my guns seemed like the next best idea." He heard some welding. "Plus, the best soldering iron is at Ash's station."

"What could possibly distract you from model ships?" he asked, sarcastically.

"Ha," she said, mirthlessly. "Usually nothing, but my terminal was right there, and I kept going over my Noveria report. It's infuriating."

"Something wrong with it?" Not that he didn't relate. How many times had he double- and triple-checked his C-sec reports? But the Noveria mission went pretty smooth, considering how much could have gone wrong — and they were a step closer to reaching Saren.

“Usually, once a mission is done, it’s done. I try not to keep looking back, because then I’ll keep picking over things that I can’t change.” He heard her disassembling her assault rifle with a little too much force. “But with the Council...I’ve been spoiled with Anderson and Hackett. I’m not used to unsympathetic superiors.”

In that moment, he realized that he was seeing a part of the Commander that others on the _Normandy_ might not have been privy to. This wasn’t Commander Shepard, N7 infiltrator and first human Spectre — this was Ava Shepard, a soldier frustrated with authority, who had doubts about her performance, who made model ships to ease her mind. He didn’t mind seeing this side of Shepard, he just wasn’t sure _why_ she was allowing it — maybe because it was late, or he caught her in a sharing mood, or she thought a hot headed ex C-sec detective could relate. Maybe, impossibly, he thought, it could be because she trusted him.

“Surely you’ve had them before,” he said, tentatively. “You don’t get to being the first human Spectre without butting some heads.”

She smirked to herself. “Well, less than a krogan would, but more than you’d expect. Just not recently.” Then, she frowned. “I don’t think the Council will be satisfied with anything I do, and killing a matriarch definitely didn’t put me high on their list.”

While he knew that Shepard would have to report to the Council after missions, this was, he realized, the first one with consequences. To him, killing Benezia was a part of the mission, self defense, a necessary action to stop the geth, stop Sovereign, stop Saren. The same was true for Shepard, but _she_ had to face the Council and present evidence for a case that they already didn’t believe in. It was so much like Saren’s case with the Executor, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of empathy.

“I can’t imagine Tevos being happy about that,” he agreed, playing with a circuit board.

“Rediscovering a rachni queen and releasing her wasn’t their favorite either, but,” she got up to grab a mod from her locker, her steps nearly silent before she sat back down. “They probably would have said something if I _didn’t_ let her go.”

“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

“Exactly,” she said, grabbing new tools for more precise work. “Not that I’m ungrateful, just…ah, I just can’t wait to see the Sparatus’ face when we prove him wrong.”

“I want to see the Executor’s,” Garrus said, reveling in the thought of sending him a full report with substantial evidence on why _he_ was right. But that would entail being in the position to file a report. “If I can even get my job back, that is.”

“You’re planning on going back?” she asked. It was no secret that he was frustrated with C-sec — why else would he drop his job to join a Spectre? — but Shepard hadn’t acknowledged it before.

“I’m not sure what else I would do,” he said, honestly. He’d thought about this for a while, and still couldn’t come up with any alternatives. “As much as I love this — the travel, meeting new people, chasing down Saren — it’s not exactly a day job.”

“Maybe you could become a Spectre,” she offered. “No red tape.”

“I tried,” he said, feeling embarrassed. Another failure for his record to join the unprosecuted criminals and uncompleted cases — but if Shepard was being open about her thoughts, he might as well be, too.

Shepard put down what she was working on, turning her full attention to him. “You were a Spectre candidate?”

He kept his omni-tool open, but figured he’d at least give the courtesy of turning around to face her. “A _potential_ candidate. One picked from thousands of officers in the turian military. I could have gotten further training to prepare, but my dad wouldn’t let me go through with it.”

“Does he have a problem with Spectres?” she asked curiously — not in defense.

“He hates that they’re above the law,” he said, recalling all the angry rants his father would often go on. “He was pretty high up in the C-sec line of command, and they caused him endless trouble. Releasing suspects, interrupting investigations...there’s a lot Spectres _haven’t_ screwed up for my dad.”

“I can see how that would be frustrating,” Shepard said, scratching the back of her neck. “I want to say that they probably had good reasons, but with Saren…I don't know how good we are.”

“Well, _you’re_ good,” he said. “I wouldn't be here if I didn't think so.”

“Thank you, Garrus,” she said, and while she kept her serious expression, he saw her skin turn light pink across her cheeks. “It means a lot, but I'm the new kid. What if it just takes years of power and lawlessness to make me corrupt?”

He wasn't sure if that was a rhetorical question or not. He answered anyway. “The fact that you can acknowledge it now means you’re on a better track than most,” he said. “And if you do end up controlling the geth with a ship that can brainwash matriarchs, then I’ll be the annoyed C-sec officer trying to take _you_ down.”

That seemed to break her line of thinking, because she let out a peal of laughter. “Promise?"

“Promise,” he said, his mandibles widening in a smile.

Still smiling, she shook her head and turned around to attach a new scope to her assault rifle. “Let's hope it never comes to that.”

He ran some final scans on the Mako. “But if it does, chasing down rogue Spectres _could_ be my day job.”

“At the risk of your job security, I hope that Saren is the last one we have to deal with.”

“Agreed.”

He put his omni-tool away, satisfied with the results of his diagnostics. Now that he wasn’t concentrated on working, he felt like he could fall asleep standing — stretching, he peeked at Shepard, who was now holding a level to her rifle while putting on the new scope. She looked more relaxed than when she first entered the shuttle bay, only her hands tense as she delicately assembled her Avenger. He liked to think their conversation helped, even if it unnerved him to hear doubts coming from Shepard — not that it was bad, but _he_ was usually the one anticipating negative outcomes. Usually someone like his sister would have to remind him of how things could go right, even if the odds were overwhelmingly stacked in the favor of the opposite.

Something about seeing Shepard hard on herself made him an optimist. A role reversal, to say the least.

“Shepard,” he said, rolling his head to get rid of the kink in his neck. “I just wanted to say...I think everything will fall into place. With the geth and Saren, I mean. You’ll get it done.”

She looked over at him, a small smile forming on her lips. “ _We’ll_ get it done. I’m nothing without my crew.”

“Then I’ll watch your six,” he offered.

Her smile grew wider. “Thanks Garrus,” she said, giving him a small salute. “Now go get some sleep.”

"Aye, aye."

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank @the-raven-hearted on tumblr for giving me the prompt of "Everything will fall into place", and inspiring me to start writing down Ava's story instead of just kinda...keeping it in my Google Drive folder and random assortments of notebook paper.


End file.
